


The List

by Westgate (Harkpad)



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Clint Barton, Bucky Barnes Feels, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-16
Updated: 2017-03-16
Packaged: 2018-10-06 03:36:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10324733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harkpad/pseuds/Westgate
Summary: Bucky first knows Clint as Steve's teammate, then as Natasha's best friend, then as Bucky's friend, then as Bucky's boyfriend. Finally, he is reminded that Clint is also a vulnerable human with no serum running through his veins, and Bucky's not sure if he can handle that part of who Clint is.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much to JHSC for the beta reading. This was supposed to be a short tumblr prompt response and it blew into a 5k fic that I needed help with.

_Bucky first knew Clint as Steve’s teammate._

“Holy shit,” he muttered as he watched the screens in front of him. Coulson had allowed Bucky access through JARVIS to watch the battle at the Tower. He hadn’t even met anyone on the team, had only spent one sleepless night here, and now he was watching a guy with a bow and arrow absolutely skewer an oversized rat that happened to be holding a laser pistol. This was something out of a Jules Verne novel or something.

Suddenly another rat came up behind the man – Hawkeye, he'd been told was his name – and Bucky wanted to reach out and spin the guy around so he could see it. He couldn’t, though, and the rat swiped at Hawkeye with a large silver claw, but Steve’s shield careened in from off-screen and cut the claw off at the rat’s shoulder.

Bucky watched as Steve caught the shield and then found himself screaming at the screen – “Steve, duck, you idiot!” – when three arrows at once flew past Steve’s head and took down the three rats converging. All three dropped to the ground in a heap with arrows protruding from their eyes.

Bucky didn’t shout at the screen after that. He watched in awe as Steve’s team worked together – like the Commandos had done years upon years ago – like a flawless choreographed dance. The rats were dispersed within forty minutes. Coulson informed Bucky that Steve would be back after a debrief and decontamination procedures.

Bucky took the time to use the computer as JARVIS instructed him in order to learn as much as he could about Hawkeye. He couldn’t find much, but that was okay. Surely Bucky would meet him soon enough.

He started a list in his head for Hawkeye and added ‘brave’ and ‘sharpshooter.’

_Then Bucky new Clint as Natasha’s best friend._

After the battle with the rats, the team only had a respite of two days before they were called out again. Bucky had four meetings with SHIELD psych and one meeting with Coulson and Fury in those two days, so he was allowed to be onsite this time. He sat with Coulson and a couple of agents in the van. “Keep your eyes open for us, Barnes,” Coulson had said. “You’ll probably see things I don’t.”

Bucky took the casual order seriously, and watched carefully as the team went up against a bunker full of AIM agents wielding some new weapon that was like a heat-seeking rifle instead of missile. He marveled as Hawkeye shot bullets out of the air in front of his teammates, as Steve somehow managed to take his shield use to a new level and block bullets meant for his teammates, and as Natasha seemed to be able to be everywhere the bullets weren’t.

 Until they were.

Bucky saw her drop only moments before Tony declared the bunker secure, and even though Hawkeye was a good two hundred yards away, he was skidding to her side before Bucky realized it.

“Fuck, fuck – Stark! I need you to get her back to base NOW!” Hawkeye yelled, and Coulson, calm as usual, followed with, “Yes, bypass the field medics. If Clint says she needs base medics, then get her there.”

Bucky watched as Iron Man lifted Natasha carefully into his arms and flew off, and as Clint took a minute when he thought no one was watching to pound the ground with his fist. Then he jumped up, blatantly stole one of the SHIELD cars, and disappeared in a cloud of dust.

Bucky had a simmering fear coursing through his veins. Natasha was someone he trusted, someone he’d known from before, and if she could reform herself and do some good, maybe he could, too. So, after a nod from Coulson, he hopped the first transport back to base and made his way to the medical area about an hour after Clint. Clint was there, still in his full gear and leaning against the wall. He held himself very stiff, and he didn’t even acknowledge Bucky’s arrival. Bucky took a seat in one of the plastic chairs nearby and waited.

He was surprised about an hour later when a doctor leaned out from the back area and gestured to Clint, who pushed himself off the wall and disappeared with the doctor. Bucky kept waiting. Eventually the rest of the team arrived, and he told Steve he didn’t know what was going on, but that Clint had disappeared earlier. Steve just nodded and settled in to wait with Bucky.

When Clint emerged from the back, he’d changed clothes, but he still had dirt and grime on his face from the fight. He also looked like he might fall over from exhaustion. They all gathered around him for news.

“She’s gonna be okay,” he said, and Bucky blew out a breath he’d been holding. Clint looked over at him in surprise and nodded. “She’s still in ICU, though, and no one’s allowed back for a while. You guys should go home and clean up, and I’ll let you know when they’re letting people in to see her.”

“How come you get to see her?” Bucky asked without thinking. He was tired, so he blamed it on that.

“I’m not ‘people,’ is why,” Clint replied, and his voice had a dangerous edge to it.

Bucky blinked and looked over at Steve.

“Come on, Buck, you can drive us,” Steve said, and Bucky followed with a frown.

“Are they together?” He asked as he pulled the car into the Tower garage.

Stark laughed and Steve shook his head. “No. But Clint might as well be family, which is why he gets visitation when she’s hurt.”

“What he means is that no doctor would be dumb enough to tell Barton he couldn’t visit her,” Tony added as they climbed out of the car.

Bucky added ‘loyal’ to the list of things he knew about Hawkeye.

_Then Bucky knew Clint as Clint, his friend._

“Hey, Bucky, I need some competition!” Clint hollered from across the room as Bucky stepped off of the elevator. He had intended to just grab a couple handfuls of blueberries for a smoothie because he’d run out in his own kitchen, but he couldn’t help wandering over to see what Clint was up to.

He was perched on the back of the couch with his bare feet on the cushions in front of him, and was wearing loose-fitting green flannel sleep pants and a pale blue hoodie with the hood pulled tight around his face. He was grinning like a loon and whooped when all Bucky did was wander over.

Before Bucky could blink, Clint threw a controller for the game he was playing at Bucky’s chest. He caught it and looked over at the TV. He had tried a few of the video games, but this looked ridiculous. “What _is_ this?”

Clint faked astonishment and whistled. “This is only Mario Kart, and Steve’s been neglecting you if he hasn’t shown it to you yet. Come on, it’s easy.”

Bucky looked around. It was ten in the morning and the sun was streaming in through the giant windows of Avengers Tower. He’d been hoping to curl into the corner of his couch and sit in the dark with some music for a while. Sunlight and a stupidly chaotic swirl of colors on the screen were not what he had planned, but Clint was funny at dinners and Steve said he’d been through a load of shit himself a year or two ago. Bucky was kind of curious about how the guy got from there to here, laughing at a game and inviting Bucky over like he was one of the team.

About an hour after Clint taught him how to play the most entertaining game he’d ever played, they changed gears and Bucky hardly noticed how it happened. Clint tossed the game controller onto a nearby table, stood up on the couch, and did a double backflip over the back of the couch to land lightly on his feet behind Bucky.

He turned to see Clint grin, and he couldn’t help but copy it. “Wanna spar?” Clint asked, and then, like with the game, he took Bucky’s pause for a yes and pulled him over to the elevator. They were dressed in workout clothes and staring each other down in the ring within five minutes.

Bucky was faster than Clint, and stronger, but Clint was clever and lithe and finally resorted to doing this absurdly complex and silly acrobat thing where Bucky ended up busting out laughing instead of paying attention, and Clint got him pinned with a bout of quick viciousness that took Bucky by surprise. It was an awesome surprise.

“How the hell did you do that?” He choked out around Barton’s hold, and once Clint knew Bucky surrendered, he let go and leapt back to his feet with a shrug.

“I was in the circus. I know how to deflect someone’s attention.”

Bucky stared. Clint was dripping with sweat, smiling, and had a look sad resignation in his eyes that Bucky hadn’t noticed before. When the moment passed and the impish, fun look that Bucky was used to reclaimed Clint’s eyes, Bucky almost lost his breath at how gorgeous the transformation was. He licked his lips and met Clint’s steady gaze. Clint took a step closer, and then seemed to realize what he was doing with a blink and shake of his tousled hair, so he stepped back and crossed his arms like he was trying to figure something out.

“I’ll bet no one’s bothered to take you to Starsigns for dinner,” he stated.

Bucky didn’t even think before he answered, “Nope, but I’m betting you will.”

Clint did take him to dinner, and before he knew it, Bucky had spent all day with his new friend, and never once got the urge to go back to his place and hide. When he finally got home that night, he crashed and managed five straight hours of sleep. He figured that hadn’t happened to him since 1943.

Bucky added ‘hilarious’, ‘kind’, and ‘a bit nuts’ to his list.

_Then, Bucky knew Clint as his boyfriend._

It was amazing. They kissed for the first time after they’d spent three hours on Clint's purple couch playing video games and drinking seven different kinds of soda. Clint was bitching about how boring Coke was when they decided to play some games, so they decided to get the most bizarre favors of soda they could find at a nearby international grocery store and try them all. Clint’s kiss tasted like mango, and Bucky decided it was his favorite flavor ever.

Bucky’s new favorite time of day was dinner; if Clint had to work or Bucky had appointments, this was when Bucky would get that rush of getting to see Clint for the first time in several hours. While he hated being apart from Clint, he loved that moment of finding each other again. They would kiss, Clint would run his knobby fingers through Bucky’s long hair with a sigh of contentment, and then they’d decide whether they were eating dinner with everyone else or on their own.

Bucky didn’t care, as long as Clint was there.

He added ‘hot’, ‘gentle’, and ‘very athletic’ to his list.

_Then Bucky knew Clint as too goddamned human and vulnerable._

Bucky joined the Avengers. It was inevitable, and it was outstanding. He was useful again, he trained extensively, and he became part of what he now secretly referred to as The Dance. He loved it, and the team just kept getting stronger.

This made someone very, very angry.

Bucky woke up in the middle of a cell with a pounding headache, but it didn’t bother him too much. He knew cages and headaches. He looked around the cell, but it was empty. He got up and adjusted himself so he was sitting on the floor in the far corner with his back to the wall and the best view he could get of the hallway through the clear – and apparently, shatter-proof – glass wall.

He ran over the battle they’d been fighting until he remembered getting cut off from the rest of the team, and figured the bad guys must’ve gassed him with something. That sucked, but along with new friends and new fights came a newfound trust that those new friends would rescue him. Steve, if no one else, would tear the world apart for him, and he had a suspicion that Clint would be right behind him.

The door in front of him slid open, and before he could blink someone else was shoved into the cell and immediately dropped to the floor like a sack of bricks. Bucky stared in shock and realized that it was Clint, and he wasn’t moving. Bucky swallowed the fear that leapt into his heart at the sight and clambered across the floor to Clint’s side. He pressed his fingers to Clint’s neck and closed his eyes in relief at the steady pulse, and he gritted his teeth and rolled Clint over onto his back.

He fell back onto the floor with a low “fuck,” and tried to get a grip on his breath as it raced out of control at the sight. Clint’s face was a mess of cuts and bruises and there was blood trickling down his chin. Bucky reached over and tried to wipe it off with the cuff of his shirt, but that only made it worse, spreading it across Clint’s throat like a grotesque scarf.

He ran his eyes down the rest of Clint’s body and noticed that his left hand was swollen badly, and it looked like at least two fingers were broken. He swore again, and noticed that Clint was waking up.

“Clint, hey,” Bucky said, leaning close to Clint’s face and speaking to him gently. “You’re with me, but you need to lay still, okay? Just lay still and look at me. I’m right here.”

Clint opened his eyes slowly and blinked at Bucky. Bucky saw him swallow with a grimace, and blow a sharp breath out. He swallowed again and whispered, “Hey, Buck. You okay?”

Fury hit him, sharp and sour, as Clint asked after his welfare while lying broken on the ground. “I’m fucking fine,” he growled, and Clint’s blackened eyes narrowed.

“Bucky, hey,” he said, and Bucky closed his eyes against the anger at the situation, at the bastards who snatched Clint, the one person who could make Bucky come unraveled in a situation he would normally handle with cold precision.

“Hey,” Clint repeated, and something in his voice made Bucky look back down and see him offering a tired, ghoulish-looking grin. “They beat the shit out of me, but I’m okay. Here,” he added, and he tried to sit up, “Help me up. Let’s figure this out.”

Bucky did, and pulled Clint up so he was sitting against the wall cradling his broken fingers to his chest and looking around the small cell.

“It’s pretty,” he said, and Bucky shook his head. “What? It’s very pretty for a cage. Believe me, I’ve seen some shitty cages. Bet you have, too.”

Bucky had admitted to Clint in the darkness of night that he was grateful that they had some shared experiences, even though those experiences were awful and he wished Clint hadn’t had to go through them. Clint had nodded and brushed his hand through Bucky’s hair and down his cheek, murmuring, “Me, too. Me, too.”

Now he wished they were miles apart, because after a few minutes of trying to strategize an escape with no real plan, there was an insidious hissing sound and the room suddenly filled with a smoky gas. Bucky tried to hold his breath, and he grasped Clint’s hand tight as Clint shouted, “You fucking bastards!” Clint only got one shout in before the gas pulled Bucky under and the room went dark.

He woke to the sound of tapping on the now clear wall of the cell and a tall, grey-haired woman who looked like she just got back from a charity gala smiling coldly at Bucky. “Wake up, Sergeant Barnes. We have some things to discuss.” Her voice was clear and sharp with a slight southern US accent, and her green eyes were cold as she stared at Bucky, waiting for him to come back to his senses.

He did so quickly, and he looked past her to see Clint strapped to a metal chair. The sight forced Bucky to blink away a flashback to another metal chair he was intimately familiar with. He growled in frustration and leapt forward to pound on the glass right in front of her face. She didn’t even flinch.

“We’re going to discuss the Avengers,” she said. “Tony Stark and Bruce Banner, to be precise.”

Bucky looked past her to Clint, who looked about the same as he had when the gas had filled the room, except someone had properly cleaned his face. Now, it was just pale skin against dark and yellowed bruising. He was watching Bucky with a grim determination, and his eyes were steeled against whatever was coming next, Bucky could tell.

“We’ve broken his fingers,” the woman said with an air of disinterest, “And now we will proceed to break the rest of him in front of you if you don’t answer our questions.”

This was new. This was different than any other captive situation he’d been in before, and Bucky cursed at the way his heart dropped at the fear of something happening to Clint to take him away. Clint was tough, though. Bucky could see the fight in Clint’s eyes, lit sharp and bright.

“He’s not like you,” the woman said quietly this time, just for Bucky. “He’s not enhanced. He’s breakable, and he won’t be able to repair himself no matter what you do for him.”

Clint suddenly jerked in the chair, muscles spasming wildly. Bucky knew they were flooding him with electricity – he’d been through it often enough to feel it in his bones as he watched in horror, and they were relentless. The woman leaned back and turned to watch as they hit Clint over and over with shocks, and Bucky couldn’t help slamming his metal arm against the plexiglass wall in front of him. When Clint slumped forward in the chair and Bucky saw him gasping for breath, he hit the glass again.

The woman looked at him coolly and said, “Tell us how far Stark and Banner are on taming the Hulk.”

Bucky couldn’t believe it. He was the guy who played video games with Clint and sparred in the gym with Natasha and was teaching himself how to cook so that he could make his lover breakfast in bed. “I’m not the scientist,” he snarled. “I don’t know anything.”

The woman nodded. “All right,” she said, and then gestured to someone Bucky couldn’t see, and Clint jerked in the chair again. This time he couldn’t hold back a guttural scream.

“Stop!” Bucky shouted, and the woman listened. This time Clint threw his head back against the chair and Bucky saw him bite his lip hard enough to draw blood.

“If you don’t know science, then you know strategy,” the woman said. “Tell me how you’re dealing with AIM. What is the Avenger’s long-term strategy?”

Bucky swore to himself. That he did know. He and Steve, along with anyone else who happened by, spent long hours at the common room table looking at maps, looking at cargo manifests, planning the best ways to approach the problem of Advanced Idea Mechanics and a few other terror groups from a logistics standpoint. But he couldn’t tell, so he snarled again. “You overestimate me. They don’t trust me fully yet. I’m just the guy they point a gun with.”

This time Clint passed out cold after just a minute of the current rushing through him. As Bucky watched his limp body convulse, the room filled with gas once more.

When he woke, Clint was huddled on the floor near the door, clearly right where they’d dumped him. Bucky crawled over to him, feeling guilt soak his pores with every inch. “Clint?”

The only response he got was Clint’s harsh breathing, a sound that reminded Bucky of the way the metal plates on his arm scraped against each other when they got out of whack in a fight. Bucky pulled Clint into his arms, and Clint curled against him, trembling uncontrollably. Bucky held him close, tracking his breathing, checking his pulse, and losing his own breath every time Clint twitched too hard. Electric chairs were _not_ something to mess around with, even though all he could do was watch if something went south.

“This fucking sucks,” Clint said into Bucky’s shirt, and Bucky didn’t know what to say back, so he just brushed his hand through Clint’s sweat-soaked hair. They sat like that for a long time, until Clint’s body finally settled down, and Bucky felt Clint’s breathing even out into a restless sleep.

Bucky held him close. Fuck their captors who might realize that Clint is something more to Bucky than a teammate – they were already using him against Bucky. Nothing would change that except the team doing their goddamned job and finding them and getting them the hell out of here.

Bucky’s anger needed a place to land, and there was no one here but Clint, who he loved.

Finally Clint woke up, and he rolled over in Bucky’s lap so that Bucky could frame his hands on Clint’s cheeks and stare into his cloudy eyes.

“How are you feeling?” Bucky whispered.

“Like burnt toast,” Clint replied, and Bucky couldn’t hold back a smile at the fake-indignant tone in Clint’s voice, and Clint somehow managed to give Bucky a wink that sent a warm thread through his chest.

“Dammit, Clint,” Bucky started, but Clint turned his cheek and pressed a quick kiss to Bucky's palm.

“Team’ll be here soon. You gotta hold out on them, Buck. Don’t even try to fake them out. Just hold out.”

They both knew that if Bucky got caught in a lie, Clint would pay the price.

Bucky stroked Clint’s hair until Clint closed his eyes again, but before he could go back to sleep entirely, the room filled with gas.

This time, they beat Clint. After he refused to answer questions at all, the woman frowned at Bucky and said, “This is on you, then,” and the goons she had with her proceeded to hit and hit until Bucky was screaming again and the gas swept him under.

This time Clint was unconscious too long. Bucky moved him to what he hoped was a comfortable position and then he paced. He felt his blood practically boiling in his veins. He slammed his fist into the now-opaque walls every few minutes. He sat hunched over Clint’s still body and swore under his breath. This was what Clint was. He was vulnerable, he could be killed, and Bucky would be left alone again, no matter if Steve and Natasha and the others were there. There would always be a hole in Bucky’s world if Clint were gone.

He hadn’t meant for this to happen. Clint had burrowed his way into Bucky’s heart and opened a space that had been closed since before the war, a space of hope and yearning, and Clint had filled it with laughter and kindness and a brash confidence that made Bucky forget that Clint wasn’t exactly like him.

Bucky hit the wall again with a snarl.

“Bucky?”

Bucky spun and saw Clint staring at the ceiling, his breath coming in short gasps.

“Hey,” Bucky said once he was at Clint’s side.

“Team’s not here?” Clint said, and his voice was paper-thin, and it sounded like each word was a chore.

“Not yet, Clint,” Bucky replied, and his anger swelled again, unbidden.

Clint nodded and then coughed a wet cough punctuated by a gasp that Bucky seemed to feel in his own chest. “They’ll be here,” Clint whispered. “Hang on.”

Bucky couldn’t help but laugh, and it sounded bitter in his ears. Clint was telling _him_ to hang on. “I will if you will,” he said, and he wanted to touch Clint, but fear was like a wall between them, so he just watched Clint’s tight face, kept an eye on the rise and fall of his chest, watched his hands clench in pain every few seconds.

“This is nothin’,” Clint replied, but then something must’ve happened, because he sucked in a sharp breath and went even paler than before. The wall of fear disintegrated in Bucky’s anger, and he placed his palm on Clint’s chest, careful not to press.

“Clint,” he said, and watched as Clint struggled to control the pain. He couldn’t control the desperation in his voice, but Clint was too miserable to notice.

Bucky couldn’t help but think back to the last time they’d made love, Clint holding him from behind and whispering in his ear how strong Bucky was, how he loved the way Bucky felt underneath him, how he never thought Bucky would consent to being with him and how hot Bucky felt in his arms. Bucky had never been with someone who talked so much, but the memory of his voice on those nights was what Bucky used on days they couldn’t be together to make him smile.

Now Clint’s eyes were clenched shut and he was still trying to reassure Bucky. “You gonna kick their asses for me, Buck?” He whispered.

“I’m going to kill them,” Bucky answered, and Clint swallowed and nodded.

“Good.” Clint looked like he was going to say something else, but the familiar hissing sound began again, and he closed his eyes and simply said, “Oh, fuck.”

Bucky wasn’t going to go quietly. They’d been stuck in here at least two days with no water, and Clint wasn’t going to survive much more of this. Bucky wasn’t sure he’d survive if Clint were gone. So he whirled and slammed his metal arm against the glass in a futile protest, but it’s all he had. He hit and hit and hit until the gas drew him under one more time.

“Bucky,” Steve said as Bucky tried to swim back to consciousness. “Bucky, you’re safe.”

Bucky sucked in a breath like he'd been without air for an hour, and Steve was there, helping him sit up and holding his hand.

“You’re okay, Buck. We finally found you. You’re safe.” Steve’s eyes were sad and his voice was thin, and Bucky knew what that meant.

“Clint,” he said, and threw his legs off the cot he was resting on. Bucky could feel the pulse of the quinjet’s engines under his feet. “Please tell me he’s alive, Steve.” He watched Steve’s face fall a little and saw him steal a glance toward the back of the jet. He followed his gaze and saw a couple of medics bent over a gurney. “Steve?”

“We’re heading back to base as fast as we can, Buck. He’s in bad shape, though. We found you passed out and Clint strapped in a chair, and they’ve been working over him since we got to you.” He paused and shook his head. “We only found guards, but Tony cracked the computers they left behind and it looks like it may have been AIM.”

Steve tried to ask him questions, but Bucky couldn’t answer. His voice was trapped in his chest, and all he could do was move close enough to Clint to see his pale face covered with an oxygen mask and his swollen hand, pale against the black vinyl of the gurney. Bucky stared at it, the skin of the broken fingers pink and burnt-looking, and he thought of Clint back in the cell, trying to reassure Bucky despite his pain.

“He was so strong,” Bucky said as Steve put his arm around his shoulder and pulled him close. Bucky rested his head on Steve’s shoulder. “He’s crazy strong.”

“Which is why he’ll be okay,” Steve said, and Bucky couldn’t answer.

Bucky watched the medics work. Nothing else registered, and suddenly they were pushing Clint off the jet and down to Medical. Natasha stopped him at the doors that led to surgery, and pushed him into a chair in the waiting room. She handed him a bottle of water and he drank it in one gulp.

“Did they give you any food or water?” She asked as she handed him another bottle.

Bucky didn’t answer. He drank the water and put his head in his hands.

He added ‘amazing’ to his list.

**EPILOGUE**

“Hey gorgeous,” Clint said weakly.

Bucky leaned over and brushed a wisp of hair off of Clint’s forehead. “Hey.” He held a cup of ice water out for him. “Not sure what to do with you, Clint,” he said gently. He sat down on the bed and pulled Clint’s splinted hand into his.

“Take me home?” Clint replied, and Bucky laughed and shook his head.

“Those bastards managed to break three of your ribs, two of your fingers, along with a concussion and two bruised kidneys, as well as multiple contusions. You’re not going home yet.” Bucky closed his eyes against a wave of worry.

“Bucky?” Clint said.

“They were gonna kill you,” Bucky said, and swallowed thickly. He ducked his head to his chest.

“Hey,” Clint said. “I’m okay, Buck.”

Bucky glared at him. If there was one thing Clint wasn’t right now, it was okay.

“I mean, I’m kinda high, and you’re clearly mad at me, but I’m gonna be okay. We held ‘em off.”

And there it was, Bucky figured.

_Clint_ held them off. Bucky had to sit back and watch, and now Clint’s doing the reassuring. What good was Bucky? “Yeah, we held them off,” he said mechanically. “Listen, Natasha’s gonna kill me if I don’t let her in here to see you, okay?”

Clint nodded and then winced, and Bucky brushed his hand through Clint’s hair.

“Rest. I’ll send Nat in and I’m going to go get a shower, okay? I’ll be back.” He watched as Clint closed his eyes, and then he got up and sent Natasha in to sit with her best friend. She’d be more useful there than he would right now.

He let the spray of the shower pound against his skin, and he couldn’t get the images of Clint in that metal chair out of his head. Clint was human. Vulnerable. But Clint held them off. Clint could get hurt and take weeks to recover from a beating, and he didn’t have any sort of serum coursing through his veins, only blood. Bucky saw the blood seeping down Clint’s chin back in the cell and tried to take a steadying breath. He let the water sluice over his head like rain.

Bucky could take a beating and be healed the next day, but Clint was going to be out for weeks, recovering. The shower water started to get cold, startling Bucky out of his thoughts. He dried off, pulled on some clean clothes, and went to the cafeteria to grab some food before heading back to be with Clint.

Because he would go back and be with Clint. Clint may be human, and vulnerable in ways that Bucky wasn’t, but he was also hot, gentle, athletic, kind, hilarious, loyal, and brave. That was a pretty good list, and Bucky would work as hard as he could to make sure the vulnerable human part didn’t matter very much, after Clint recovered.

 

 


End file.
